


Monsters and Princesses

by lunabelieves



Category: American Horror Story
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, Gift Fic, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I wrote this before Apocalypse, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unrequited Love, post Murder House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26257117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunabelieves/pseuds/lunabelieves
Summary: Violet is given a gift by someone. I wrote this for a friend for Christmas.
Relationships: Violet Harmon/Tate Langdon (unrequieted)
Kudos: 9





	Monsters and Princesses

The melancholy lilt of Greg Laswell is Violet's anthem for the day. Fitting for the gray of the clouds outside, the rain tapping onto the windows outside of the house. The world seems to pass by as though she never existed in the first place. Being dead, just like Moira said, felt like being stuck in one place while the world went on without you.

She used to love Halloween because it was the one day of the year she could be the scariest thing she could think of. Vampires, zombies, murder victims. Now she loves the day because it's the one day of the year she can leave Murder House and go places. Even if it's just for a walk around the block or over to see Contance for a cup of tea and a nice chat. Of course, years ago, she asked the Southern woman not to mention 'him'.

Time is supposed to heal all wounds, but it hasn't healed hers. It's taken years and years for it to try and begin to heal, for the hole in her heart to crust and scab over so she can put the pieces of her unlife back together. Years before she can even talk about him without a furious flush of pain filling her, like water breaking through a dam. Years before she can even think his name without wanting to smash something, just throw something against the wall or violently shatter the glass windows that are the same color as Nora Montgomery's eyes. Once, six years ago, she joined the redheaded twins one day, wandering through the house and destroying random objects with them. It felt good then, to take her anger at him out on the house. Now, it almost feels like doing such a thing would be juvinille. Still, thinking about it makes her feels a little better inside.

Nowadays, she usually takes her anger out on herself. After all, she can't die twice.

The problem with Violet is that she's spent so much time trying not to give a shit that she's forgotten how to do anything but hurt herself. The problem is that Tate is the darkness, and Violet doesn't think she'll ever be able to immerse herself into the darkness again.

She stills hates him, mostly for the good memories that she associates with his name. Of days like this, when the world was cold and gray, when they would play Scrabble and he would 'let' her win. Of sunnier days when she'd go outside for a cigarette and they'd sit and talk. Of secrets written on a chalk board and sharing her favorite songs with him. Of butterfly kisses and arms holding her. Of honey scented hair and a sweet voice whispering in her ear.

If you're trying to kill yourself, you might wanna try locking the door.....I like birds too....Hi, I'm Tate. I'm dead, wanna hook up?...I love you, Violet, and it's not just words on a chalk board...Don't you die on me...Like Romeo and Juliet...

She shuts Greg Laswell off and closes laptop. She needs a fucking cigarette now.

\--  
\--

Violet once told Tate that she was sadly, boringly ordinary, with a sady boring life before they came here, to California and the Murder House. That she was just a character in a John Hughes film, or some pretentious attempt at one. Until they came here.

Tate had told her he was glad she had come along and that he could bring something to her otherwise boring life.

\--  
\--

Outside it's cool, due to the rain and it feels nice, almost like she's alive again and can get goosebumps from the chill in the air. Another reason to love Halloween now, it's the day she can forget about dying, about all the awful things that happened in the house. The awful and the good.

She's just gotten in a puff or two when she can hear footsteps. It's not many that will come outside on this day. Sometimes Moria will go for a walk, the times that Violet goes and she thinks that the woman, her brother's godmother, just likes getting out in the fresh air. Away from the stuffy house. Her parents rarely go out themselves, much like the rest of the 'guests' of the house, both benevolent and malevolent.  
Save for one. She knows who he is. She's seen him watching from the corner of her eye, but whenever she turns to look at him, he's gone.

"Tate?" It's the first time she's called for him in a long time. She's not surprised when she doesn't get an answer. Still, she climbs off the wall she had been sitting on and calls again. "Tate?"

No reply again and she begins to walk. It's like a macabre version of the games of hide-and-seek she used to play when she was little and thought she was invincible. Only now she's playing it with a ghost. She circles the house twice, getting soaked in the process. It's kind of funny that way, how she can still get caught in the rain and get wet, how she can feel the sun on her skin and yet can never get warm. Maybe it's just part of the curse that is the Montgomery house.

The game comes to a stop when she reaches the front door again, but not because he's standing there. No, she stops because there's a small bouquet sitting in front of the door. Tied with a velvet gray ribbon is a small cluster of violets. Dark purple in color and just sitting there, waiting for her to pick them up, which she did. Scooping them into her hands, breathing in their soft scent. Tate once told her she smelled like violets and she told him how fucking corny he was.

Tate. This gift has to be from him. There can be no other.

Of three things Violet is now certain. One, is that Tate has left her this beautiful, if cheesy gift to remind her of what they had. Two, is that she might be inclined to let these flowers work their magic charm and see him again. Three, she was starting to sound like Bella Fucking Swan, and that scared the crap out of her.

\--  
\--

He watches from a hiding spot as she picks up the gift he left for her. Watches her breathe the flowers' scent in and for a moment, it's hard not to go to her, take her in her arms and hold her tight and never let go again. But he doesn't, he can't. She hasn't forgiven him yet and he won't go to her until she does forgive him for all the terrible things he's done.

He's still waiting and is starting to think that it will be forever. Because he is a monster and she is a princess. A princess that smokes too much and cusses like a sailor sometimes, but a princess none the less.

And monsters weren't good enough for princesses.


End file.
